


And their words are just whispers and lies that I’ll never believe.

by Noorah



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Bisexual Jack, Jack takes his meds with alcohol, M/M, Overdosing, Panic Attacks, anxiety medication, can be read as a suicide attempt i guess, jack zimmermann has anxiety, shitty knight is a great friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-03 22:32:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6629653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noorah/pseuds/Noorah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anxiety. He’s not crazy. It’s not in his head. A pill when he gets up. A pill before bed. Come back in a month and we’ll see how you’re doing. He’s not crazy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And their words are just whispers and lies that I’ll never believe.

**Author's Note:**

> Read the tags please, this deals with Anxiety and overdosing and panic attacks. I promise it gets happier.
> 
> Jack and his anxiety are important to me because I get it. I understand it. I've been there and I'm still there some days.
> 
>  
> 
> Title from I'm Still Here (Jim's Theme) from the Treasure Planet soundtrack.

Jack’s 16 when he walks out of the team psychiatrist's office with a prescription for Lorazepam and a diagnosis.  
Anxiety. He’s not crazy. It’s not in his head. A pill when he gets up. A pill before bed. Come back in a month and we’ll see how you’re doing. He’s not crazy.  
He’s okay.

 

He’s 17 when he and Kenny start their… Thing.  
He likes boys and girls. Huh. Who knew? (He tries not to dwell on it, tries to be okay with it. He’s okay with it. He’s locked in the bathroom at the rink panicking. He can’t breathe. He fumbles the one pill he has in his pocket in case of a panic attack into his mouth and swallows it dry.)  
5 minutes, he’s shaking.  
10 minutes, he’s trembling.  
20 minutes, his breathing is even.  
30 minutes, he’s okay.

 

He’s 18 when he lifts the Memorial Cup over his head, the C on his chest.  
He’s 18 and curled up on the bathroom floor at his billets, tears streaming down his face as he struggles to breath. The alcohol one of the 19 years olds had bought hadn’t steadied his hands. The draft is coming up.  
He’s okay.

 

He’s 18 and days away from the draft as he fumbles the cap of his meds because his hands are numb, it’s open and he tosses two into his mouth and swallows it down with the alcohol in his cup.  
Two more.  
Two more.  
Two more.  
The bottle hits the floor, seven little green pills roll onto the tile.  
Silence. Dimming.  
He’s not okay.  
Darkness.

 

He’s 19 and he’s at the rink watching a gaggle of itty bitty kids wobble on their skates. He’s in the middle of the fray, Coach J is laughing at their antics, as they herd the puck around the ice. There’s no pressure at this level, just teamwork and fun.  
He sets one of the little girls back up onto shaky legs and taps her shin gently with his stick. She’s probably 6 or so, a bundle of enthusiasm and pink stick tape and laces.  
He’s quiet when he tells her he believes in her.  
His smile is small when she grins back and wobbles off to go after the puck.  
It grows when she scores.  
He’s okay.

 

He’s 20 and he hasn’t heard from Kenny in two years and that’s okay. He’s playing in a beer league with some of the coaches he’s been assisting and he’s feeling better.  
He’s 20 and an offhand comment sends him into an anxiety attack on the ice, his vision narrows and he feels his legs give out as he tries to suck air into his lungs.  
He’s 20 and he’s got his dad's hands on his back and his voice is soothing reminding him he’s okay, he’s safe, breathe in-one-two-three, breathe out-one-two-three.  
He’s 20 and that knot in his chest loosens up, his vision clears a bit.  
He’s 20 and he lets his dad hold him as he breathes.  
He’s 20 and he’s okay.

 

He’s 21 and he’s back on a real team for the first time in three years. He moved into his dorm at Samwell four days ago, he shares a bathroom with a “B. Knight” who he hasn’t met yet.  
He’s not sure what to think of this kid with his ‘flow’ and mustache, his love for being naked, his relaxed ways. He’s not sure how to interact.  
He’s panicking on the floor of the bathroom when the door opens and Shitty sees him with the tears streaming down his face.  
He’s 21 and he’s grateful when all Shitty does is move slowly, tuck Jack’s head into his neck and hold him as he cries.  
He tells Shitty the whole story that night, minus the Kenny part.  
They’re okay.

 

He’s 22 when he’s made captain of the Samwell Men’s Hockey team. It’s a familiar feeling, the C on his chest. He’s trying to not compare it to Rimouski, to when everything fell apart. He’s got good guys here who care about him. He’s coping.  
He lives in the Haus and once again shares a bathroom with Shitty. He tells Shitty he’s bisexual one day after class when they’re alone. Shitty’s cool with it. Shitty reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder and tells him he loves him. Tells him they’re brothers and he’s always there. Shitty thanks him for the trust.  
Jack can breathe.  
On the hard nights when he needs to stop thinking, when the anxiety is getting to him, Shitty’ll start one of the history documentaries on Amazon Prime on his laptop, toss all their blankets onto the floor of his room, grab the two desk chairs and make them a fort.  
The small space, the facts, the arm around his shoulder helps him inhale. Exhale.  
He’s okay.

 

He’s 23 when Eric Bittle appears on the roster. The kids a head shorter than him, but fast as hell and Jack can’t help but be impressed and also wary.  
The kid can’t take a check.  
Jack gets that, he can take the checks but sometimes it takes one word to send him spiraling.  
He’s 23 when he drags Bittle to the rink and starts to help him. If he can fight his anxiety, Bitty can fight his fear of getting checked.  
He’s 23 and he wonders who treated Eric Bittle so bad to the point he’s debilitated by fear when someone brushes him.  
He’s 23 when Bitty gets hit. His vision narrows and he can’t feel his hands.  
The buzzer goes off. Goal.  
Bitty gets up.  
He’s okay.

 

He’s 24 and Bittle is worse than before about the checking. He’s scared and Jack gets it. Jack understands. But he knows when the coaches say they might need to scratch him from the roster if he can’t get over it, they’re right.  
Checking practice resumes.  
He’s in talks with the Falcs for after graduation. He’s jogging with Georgia and he tells her he’s bisexual. She smiles.  
She’s okay.

 

He’s 24 and Kenny shows up at the Haus. His fists clench. His heart is pounding, he’s hot, his vision narrows to one point and he can’t breathe. He makes it up the stairs. He makes it into his room.  
Kenny’s still attractive. The NHL filled him out, he looks comfortable.  
He’s 24 and not ready for that kiss. He pushes Kenny away and tells him to get out of his room. He stutters out for him to stay away from his team.  
The door opens. Bittle’s there. The door closes.  
He can’t breathe. He has one pill from his psychiatrist in his bathroom. He gets single doses. He hasn’t taken one since freshman year.  
He takes it.  
He swallows.  
He waits.  
He’s okay.

 

He’s 24.  
They lose.  
He hides.  
Bitty comes. Bitty holds on.  
Bitty’s always holding on.  
Bitty’s there. Bitty stays.  
He breathes.  
He’s okay.

 

He’s 24 and he’s graduating. Everyone he loves is here. More importantly, everyone that loves him is here. He walks. He poses. He smiles for the camera.  
He hugs Bittle. Bitty leaves.  
He’s not okay.

 

He’s 24 and his dad gives him a push.  
He’s running.  
He’s in the haus. He’s up the stairs.  
He’s kissing Bitty.  
It’s okay.

 

He’s 25 and he’s happy. He’s a falc and he’s got a team. He’s got Bitty and a half of a pie waiting at home for after dinner.  
They skype every night. He makes an effort to text because he knows it makes Bitty happy.  
In July they watched fireworks from Bitty’s truck. Jack tells him everything, Major Juniors, Kenny, the diagnosis, the overdose, the alcohol. Bitty asks how he can help when Jack needs him. Bitty says Shitty’s told him what has worked in the past, but ‘What do you need from me when that happens, honey?’  
He tells him. They make a plan for when they’re together and when they’re not. Bitty knows about the one pill he has at all times.  
He’s surviving but it’s hard being apart from his friends and his family. The guys like him. One of the guys has adopted him. The goalie likes his shooting style. His line enjoys playing with him.  
He’s 25 and he’s sorry Bitty has to hide. He’s sorry he has to hide Bitty.  
Bitty gets it. Bitty understands.  
They’re okay. 

 

He’s 25 and ‘You keep telling me about those Falconers, handsome.’  
He’s 25 and ‘Bye Bits, love you.’  
He’s 25 and he’s okay.

 

(He’s 32 when that little girl he coached in rink rats sends him an email telling him she’s going to Samwell and playing for Samewell Women’s Hockey. He’s 32 and he’s proud as hell and Bitty’s next to him in the stands her opening night. Life’s okay.)


End file.
